The Lion Girl
by Hufflepuff Proud
Summary: When Draco Malfoy first sees Hermione Granger, he is instantly fascinated by her. But his father tells him to stay away from her, and so he goes throughout his years at Hogwarts never saying a word. Until the sixth year. As the two fall in love, it leads to Hermione's death, and he must travel back in time to change everything: to make Hermione hate him so he can save her life.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER SERIES. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO J.K. ROWLING. I ONLY OWN THE PLOT.**

Prologue

I didn't know I loved her until the day she died.

She had always fascinated me. The first time I saw her, I knew that there was something special about her. There was a certain spark in her brown eyes. She was ferocious and wild. Her hair was frizzy and untamed, but it seemed to match her spirit. Without knowing her, I seemed to understand her. She was different, and her contrast to the rest of the population at Hogwarts seem to grow exponentially. In class, her hand was always the first to shoot up, despite the difficulty of the question. She always followed the rules, kept her tie orderly and pressed, and handed in each and every essay with days to spare.

I was mesmerized by her in a way that nobody else seemed to be. She was everything I valued. Brave. Smart. Stubborn. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to compete with her. I was second in class, of course, but there was no room for that kind of disappointment. Not in my household. And certainly not behind her.

She was a mudblood.

I didn't understand the word at first. The first holiday back at home, I told my parents all about the wonderful girl in my classes, the ferocious one who didn't settle for anything but the best. I called her the Lion Girl, the one who both captivated and frightened me. When I told my father that she was certainly the brightest witch at our school, and that her parents were muggles, I saw his mouth twitch. And then his face turned angrier than I had ever seen it. It contorted, a mask of prejudice and wrath replacing the face that was normally so loving, twisting it and warping it until I no longer recognized the man beneath it.

He told me that she was a mudblood, and that she was not to be talked to. That I was to stay as far away from her as possible. I nodded my head, like any good son would, and kept my nose down for the rest of the meal.

Despite his words, I couldn't seem to help myself. She was enchanting. I kept my distance, but I never stopped imagining what it would be like to be her friend. To discuss the things that my friends weren't intellectual enough to discuss, to sit on a couch drinking hot chocolate, to have snowball fights, scholarly debates, to make jokes and laugh the night away. The list, which I had made in my head, was simply endless. But as soon as the thoughts about her ended, my father's words would come floating into my mind. I knew that if I disobeyed him, I would be in a lot of trouble, and so would she.

I didn't talk to her in my first year at Hogwarts, nor my second. In fact, I stayed away from her completely, scared that if I interacted with her in any way, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. Not once did I associate with the brown eyed girl with the wild mane of hair. I kept my mouth shut, my eyes adverted, and my presence away from her own. I didn't talk to her friends either. Sure, Harry Potter was one of them, but I knew there was no room for a Slytherin in his life. Especially not me. There wasn't room for me anywhere. But despite that, the girl seemed to radiate an energy that was simply irresistible; she carried an aura of luminescence with her that nobody could touch.

But in my sixth year, things started to get bad for me. I was being forced into the mistakes of my father, a road that I was terrified to go down. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I felt like an empty shell walking in a body.

I had to go work on the cupboard again, my only hope for my family's and my survival, and so I left my seat in the Great Hall, and headed to the room, the room where I could hide undisturbed. But just as I set to work, I heard footsteps behind me. I startled, turning around quickly and placing my body in front of the cupboard, though I knew it wouldn't do me any good. It was much larger than me. I looked right into the intruder's eyes, and I recognized them almost immediately. I was falling into chocolate, those beautiful brown eyes.

"What is that?" She asked. Always to the point. My eyes flickered towards the cupboard nervously before returning back to her. I felt like I was shaking, though I knew I wasn't. I had never heard her voice like that; it had never been directed at me. And it felt nice. More than I would ever admit. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could I tell her? That I was planning to help the Death Eaters? That I was going to kill Dumbledore, and in the process, everybody like her? I watched as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising her eyebrows. Her intensity and strength had only seemed to grow as she got older, growing into her own skin. "Are you going to answer me, or not?" She asked, the impatience clear in her tone. Then she seemed to soften slightly, uncrossing her arms and letting them fall back to her sides. "I'm sorry. That was terribly rude of me." She ran a hand through her bushy brown hair, and I felt the overwhelming urge to run my fingers through it as well. I quickly brushed the thought away, instead focusing on the horribly fast pace of my beating heart.

She looked at me, seeming to study me. And of course I knew she was. She was observant, more so than anyone I knew. I kept my eyes locked on her face, clenching my jaw in a sort of defiance. "I don't believe we've ever met," she finally said, taking a step closer to me. I didn't know it was possible, but my heart began to beat faster. She gave me a tiny smile, the same one I had always imagined her giving me, back when I was a young, innocent boy who believed that the world was filled with kindness and wonderful things. She pushed some stray hair behind her ear, and then held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."

A million thoughts ran through my head at that time. The first one was of my father. His words still rang through my head like a recently healed wound. But she was poking and tearing it away, opening the flesh once more, revealing the lesion that had never truly healed. I was lonely, sure. But I hadn't been lonely enough to endanger her. But now she was standing in front of me, her hand outstretched. And I knew that I couldn't stay away from her any longer. She was the girl I had dreamed about since my first year, the one I had never been able to get out of my head.

And with that thought in my mind, I did the only thing I could think to do. I held out my hand, grabbing her own and shaking it.

"Draco Malfoy," I said.

And with those words, I sealed her fate.


	2. The Truth

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER SERIES. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO J.K. ROWLING. I ONLY OWN THE PLOT.**

 **Chapter 1: The Truth**

I was restless. There weren't many times that I _wasn't_ restless anymore. Something about having to save your family whilst being blackmailed by an incredibly powerful wizard did that to a person. I knew that there was commotion around me, but I had blocked it out long ago.

I reluctantly picked at my food, placing forkful after forkful into my mouth. My stomach rolled with every bite, but I forced it down.

I felt Blaise lean over and ask me a question, but I kept my eyes on my plate, and he finally left me alone again. I couldn't find the energy to associate with my friends anymore. Something about having a normal life at Hogwarts didn't feel right to me. How could all of these people be living their lives as if nothing was happening? How could they not feel the walls crumbling around them? My world was shattering around me, and I could only sit helplessly and watch. All I had left was the cupboard. It was my only hope. If I succeeded, I would save my family. I would kill Dumbledore, and I would restore the power that was rightfully the Malfoys. All of this thought had me feeling sick again, and when I didn't think I could eat anymore, I pushed my plate away.

"I'll see you later," I mumbled to Blaise. He didn't ask questions anymore; he knew he wouldn't get answers. I stood up, running a hand through my tousled blond hair. As I was walking out of the Great Hall, I allowed my eyes to flicker over to _her_. I always tried my hardest to maintain my distance in public, but I couldn't stop myself from sneaking a peek at her face. She was as beautiful as ever, her wild mane of hair tied up in a high ponytail. For a brief moment, her brown eyes met mine. I saw the slight flush of pink make its way onto her cheeks, and then she quickly adverted her eyes and turned back to her friends. I understood why we couldn't associate with one another, but she didn't. I told her that it was the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry that did it. She understood that much. But there was so much more to it than that, and I wished I could tell her everything.

I remembered the day we had first talked like it was yesterday. Of course, it hadn't been yesterday. Four months had passed, and the day I was to become a murderer drew closer and closer. I snuck another glance at Hermione as I passed, on my way out the doors, and thought back to that day.

 _"Are you going to answer me or not?" She asked, and she crossed her arms in front of her. Then a change washed over her, and she sighed. "I'm sorry. That was terribly rude of me." I watched as she ran a hand through her hair, and then offered her hand. I felt the frantic beating of my heart and the sweat in my palms. A million possible scenarios played through my mind, but I held out my hand anyways._

 _"Draco Malfoy," I said._

 _She took my hand gently, but gave it a firm shake. Then she dropped it and crossed her arms once more. "So what is that?" She asked, nodding towards the cupboard again. I leaned against it nonchalantly, trying my hardest not to look guilty. But I was, wasn't I? Instead, I flashed her a smirk, hoping to make her melt and forget what she had seen._

 _"Does it matter?" I asked, raising my eyebrows slightly. Internally, I was terrified. But I was a Malfoy, and I always made sure that my smug face was on. Emotions weren't something I had ever been taught to express. I felt her eyes run over me, as if she was analyzing every flaw, every mistake. As if she could see right through me. I squirmed slightly, my smirk dropping a fraction. But I quickly pulled it back up. "Like what you see?" I asked, straightening my back to make myself look larger. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly._

 _"Please. You wish. Your attitude is already repulsive enough to make me want to gag." I felt my smirk change into an expression of astonishment. Nobody had ever said something like that to me before, and for once, I was speechless. I opened my mouth to retort a smart comment, but she beat me to it. "Don't try to sweet talk your way out of this one. You're a lot more attractive when you're silent." She crossed her arms once more, raising her eyebrows and giving me a tiny smirk of her own. Her chocolate eyes bore into mine, and I realized that she was challenging me. I let out a tiny huff, pushing some shaggy blond hair out of my face. Lion Girl. The name still fit. In fact, it seemed to be even more suiting now that I had begun to understand her personality. I kept my gaze locked on hers; my honour was on the line now, and I wasn't going to back down. Eventually, her eyes shifted away, and I smirked again. I had won the first challenge._

 _I watched as her eyes flickered to the cupboard once more, and I let out a nervous sigh. She was going to ask again._

 _"It's a muggle project," I spat out quickly, unsure of where I was going with this. When I saw her confused, sceptical face, I continued. "I-um…" Merlin, what had I gotten myself into?_

" _I like making things by hand, you see. The muggle way." I gave a small shrug, trying to relax my tense muscles. I knew she was observant, and I hoped that she wouldn't see the way my eyes shifted away from her, or that my words came out slightly less articulated than usual._

" _You and muggles?" She raised her eyebrows._

 _I hoped she would not see that I was lying. Luckily, she just nodded and dropped the subject. I hadn't expected it, but I welcomed the silence that followed. I could tell she was running it through her brain; it was always moving, always puzzling through things. But I had admitted to liking a muggle activity, and so her mind must have reasoned that I was okay. Because when she looked at me again, she offered me a tiny smile._

 _"It's nice to finally talk to you, Draco Malfoy," she breathed, taking a step closer to me, studying, always studying._

 _"Likewise, Granger."_

Something hit me in the back, drawing me back to the present. I was almost at the Black Lake by now, not even realizing that that's where I had been headed. I looked behind me, where a piece of paper folded like a beautiful crane had landed. I kneeled down, picking it up and looking around. Nobody was outside, which meant it had been enchanted to follow me. My breath came out in little gusts of white mist as my breathing increased. I stood back up, my eyes nervously glancing around the grounds once more. I felt jittery as I began to smooth out the creased paper. It seemed that everything frightened me these days, though I tried my hardest to keep my courage. I looked down at the words written on the note, my hand shaking slightly. But the uneasy feeling that had been engulfing me vanished at the sight of the writing. It was hers.

Room of Requirement.

Those were the only words I needed to see. I felt my heart lift slightly, and I turned around, making my way back to the castle. We always met in secret, and I always tried to forget the reason why. I felt like I was constantly lying to her; there was a large space between us that couldn't be filled by anything but the truth. And it would always be there unless I told her the real reason I was hiding that cupboard. There was no way I could tell her the truth, not without chasing her away. What would I tell her anyways? I often made good cases with words, but no words could make my situation sound good. Nothing could fix the fact that I was on the wrong side of this war, or that I was fighting for all the wrong reasons. I listened to the sound of my boots as they crunched against the snow, imagining what my relationship with the Lion Girl might be if I was normal. If my father wasn't against people like her. If there wasn't a war blooming right in front of our eyes. My feet moved faster now, carrying me across the grounds and into the castle. Once I was sure I wasn't being followed, I slipped into the door that appeared in front of me.

And there she was. Sitting on a couch, her legs pulled up to her chin and her unruly hair hanging in her eyes. She was staring into the flames of the fireplace, lost in thought. I approached her quietly, sitting down beside her. My hand itched to brush the hair out of her face, but I kept my space, pressing my lips into a tight line.

"Granger?" I asked, watching as she jumped. She hadn't even realized I had sat down. She looked at me, but her eyes were glossy and unfocused, like she was still thinking about whatever had consumed her. "You alright?" I murmured, a worried feeling washing over me. It was odd to be experiencing emotions like this. I had always been taught to suppress these kinds of emotions, but I couldn't help myself. We hadn't been friends long, but whatever was between us was undeniable. But now, something felt wrong.

I watched as she licked her lips, something I knew she only did when she was nervous. She wouldn't meet my eyes. There were plenty of things I wanted to say, but I didn't. I kept my mouth closed, and waited for her to say something. It wasn't like her not to state her thoughts.

Finally, after what seem like hours, she looked up at me. Her eyes were focused once more, and in them was a type of fire I had never seen before. The flames were roaring, kindled by some kind of fuel that I had yet to see. But behind that flame was a sadness that broke my heart. I didn't understand what was going on, but I moved a tiny bit closer to her, wanting to comfort her. She moved away, standing up quickly, as if I was the one with the fire eyes and had burned her. She looked into the flames once more, and then let out a large breath. Then her emotions were directed at me once more, and I stood up so I didn't feel so small. "What's going on?" I asked, my grey eyes searching for answers.

"Harry overheard you and Snape talking in the hallway today. He heard…" She broke off, and my eyes widened slightly. This couldn't be happening. Potter had heard my conversation with Snape? My own kind of rage enveloped me, and I shook my head.

"Potter doesn't know what he's talking about," I growled, feeling hatred for Harry Potter for the first time in my life. I had never talked to him, but I had thought him a good person. Anybody who had the respect and friendship of Hermione Granger was someone that I would like, no doubt. But he was tearing me and my Lion Girl apart, and I promised myself right then that I would never forgive him. "Whatever he told you is a lie."

Hermione shook her head again, the sadness in her eyes disappearing as the flames licked it up.

"Stop, Malfoy," she hissed, taking a step back from me. "I don't want to hear what you have to say unless it's the truth!" She waved her hands dramatically, obviously infuriated. "I thought we were friends. I thought we trusted one another!" I opened my mouth to tell her that I did trust her, but she wasn't finished. "I know you're hiding something. Don't think I haven't noticed the darkness that surrounds you. And don't think for a second that I ever believed you were making a cupboard by hand. How stupid do you think I am?" She pushed some hair behind her ears, and then I watched as her hands balled into little fists. "I know a Vanishing Cabinet when I see one. What are you planning on doing with it?" I felt the blood rush from my face, all trace of my happiness gone now; the flames in her eyes had burned it too. I had given her too much fuel with my lies.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I finally managed, forcing my best Malfoy mask on.

"I want you to tell me the truth!" She lashed out. The fire seemed to die a bit at those words, flickering out slowly. "I want you to tell me the truth," she repeated, her voice quieter. I could tell that the flames were extinguished now. She was offering me a choice now. I could continue to deny my sins and watch her leave my life right now, or I could admit everything.

She was offering an ultimatum.

I hesitated for a moment. Telling her would be destroying everything I had built. It would no longer ensure her safety, and it could compromise mine and my parents as well. But I was selfish, and I couldn't let her go. She was the only life raft I had right now, and I wasn't going to let myself drown.

"Sit down, Granger," I finally said, letting out a tiny sigh and rubbing my temples. I could feel a major headache developing, and I sat down on the couch, watching her warily. She sat down, her gaze expectant and cold.

And I was forced to tell her everything.

 **Authors Note: Thanks so much for reading! I know that this chapter is kind of short, but I'm still in the process of getting this story set to go. I'm quite excited for this project, and I hope that you all enjoy it! Please review and let me know what you think. I'm always open for suggestions to the story as well, and I will try to incorporate those in my work. Get ready for the next chapter, because it will be in Hermione's point of view! I'll get it up as soon as I can. Again, thanks for reading!**


	3. The Puzzle

There aren't very many things that escape my notice, nor are there many things that I don't understand. My brain is the kind that is always working; it constantly churns, a well-oiled machine that never stops. I can't stop it from thinking until I have solved every piece of the puzzle. Only after each fragment has been fitted together and welded into its proper place can I rest. But I liked the challenge. I liked to unravel mysteries, and I liked to let my brain whirl.

Maybe that was what made Draco Malfoy so intriguing.

He was a puzzle I had yet to figure out.

At first, he was frightening. When he was sorted into Slytherin in our first year, I told myself that I would never get close to him, no matter how fascinating he was. But as our years progressed, his eyes began to hide more and more secrets. They were what drew me in. They were an ashy grey, as if he had watched a whole forest burn, and the image had been permanently imposed into his irises.

And no one would ever know which forest burned, or who started the fire, because it would forever remain a secret, locked away in his eyes.

By my sixth year, I could no longer keep my eyes away from him. Draco Malfoy, the snake of the school. He kept to himself, never saying a word to anybody, minding his own business. I began to study him in the same way I had studied "Hogwarts: A History" in my first year. If I could pride myself on anything, it would be my highly advanced skills of observation. So I began to watch his patterns, his movements. And just as I began to get a feel for them, they changed.

The first thing I noticed was his eating habits. When normally he piled his plate high, he began to take less and less food. Soon, he was taking so little that I was surprised nobody at his table had noticed. Often, he wouldn't even eat at all. He would pick up his fork and push his food around, as if he were looking for something underneath what was there.

His next transformation came very rapidly after that. His skin paled, and he looked almost as sallow and pasty as Nearly Headless Nick. He started to lose weight until most of his clothes were large and baggy, hanging like drapes off of his thin frame. I pinned both of these symptoms on his lack of food intake, and was once again surprised that none of his friends had noticed. Or maybe they had. It seemed every time one of them tried to talk to him, he would snap at them. It didn't surprise me. His eyes still held the secrets, and they were beginning to pile up by the day.

And then his eyes changed too.

They became dull, lifeless. The ash in them was slowly beginning to blow away, the wind sweeping it to faraway places that only he knew about. I observed his new stance of defeat, as well as his erratic, fidgety behavior. He always seemed on edge; he was constantly looking towards the sky, as if an owl might swoop down at any moment and peck his eyeballs out. The puzzle seemed to get larger, and my brain, no matter how hard it tried, couldn't explain the mystery. So I decided to go ask him.

He slipped out of his chair early, heading to wherever it was that made him so nervous. I followed him, unable to stay away from the blond haired enigma anymore.

And that's how Draco Malfoy and I became friends.

There was still so much about him that I didn't understand, and it seemed that every day pulled me further and further away from the truth.

But I couldn't deny that I liked spending time with him, and so we started to meet in secret. With everything that was going on, it was nice to be around someone who was completely war drama free. Or so I thought.

When Harry told me about the conversation he had overheard, I tried to defend Malfoy. I couldn't believe that anything Harry had said were related to Draco. But the tiny seed of doubt had been planted in my head, and it began to take root there, poisoning my brain with its thoughts. And the more I studied Draco, the more I began to realize that what Harry was saying made perfect sense. Draco's nervousness, his paleness, all of it. And the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

I sent him a note, the way I usually did when I wanted to meet with him. The Room of Requirement had become our favorite hideout. After I enchanted a note to follow him, I headed there, sitting down on the couch in front of the toasty fireplace that was always there for us. Crossing my legs, I looked into the flames. My mind was turning, whirling around and around. How could someone so kind and smart possibly be involved with something so horrible?

I heard his footsteps enter the room, but I didn't look up. None of it made sense to me. My brain couldn't fit this puzzle together, no matter how hard I tried. It always seemed to be that way when it came to Draco, but I had never felt myself feel more infuriated than I was feeling now. Over and over, I ran through all of the information I knew, trying to make it tally up to the correct numbers. But it wouldn't, it _wouldn't._

"Granger?" His voice was right beside me, and it surprised me. I jumped, looking up at him. I hadn't even realized he had sat down beside me. Staring at his face, at those ashy grey eyes, my mind began to work even harder. I examined his face; I had observed him quite frequently, but never quite like this. I let my eyes wander over the entire extent of his visage, from his high draw eyebrows to his slightly hooked nose to his plump, tender looking lips. His square jaw clenched slightly. I watched as he swallowed, and then spoke again. "You alright?" His voice was so gentle; I wanted to listen to it all day, wrap myself in his silky words and wear them like a warm robe.

I let my tongue run over my bottom lip, a nervous habit. _One more time,_ I thought. I went over everything one more time. And the wave of fury washed over me again; it wasn't necessarily directed at him, but it was certainly directed at myself. I was good at problem solving, so why did Draco's situation not make sense to me? I was missing a vital piece. I looked up at him. I heard him ask what was going on, and I tried my hardest to speak quietly. But it didn't work; my anger was boiling over now, steaming and frothing.

"Harry overheard you and Snape talking in the hallway today. He heard…" I didn't know how to continue. What could I say? That Harry believed he was a Death Eater? Or should I just come right out and ask him if he was working on Voldemort's side?

"Potter doesn't know what he's talking about," he growled. For a moment, I felt unbelievable grief. The defensive tone of his voice told me exactly what I needed to know; it was a truth that I had been avoiding. That's why the puzzle hadn't fit. I hadn't wanted to admit to myself that Harry was right. And now, the anger was back, and this time, I was angry at him. Angry that he had lied to me, that I had been sneaking around to spend time with a potential Death Eater.

"Stop, Malfoy," I hissed, my tone equally as venomous. Two could play at this game. "I don't want to hear what you have to say unless it's the truth!" As if to make my point more clear, I threw my hands up in the air, clearly frustrated. "I thought we were friends. I thought we trusted one another!"

I watched as he opened his mouth, trying to get a word in. But I wasn't finished. "I know you're hiding something. Don't think I haven't noticed the darkness that surrounds you. And don't think for a second that I ever believed you were making a cupboard by hand. How stupid do you think I am?" The thought pained me. Perhaps he didn't truly believe me to be his intellectual equal. Perhaps I was nothing more than stupid, filthy muggleborn to him. Well, I would show him how stupid I was. "I know a Vanishing Cabinet when I see one. What are you planning on doing with it?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," he said, his tone mirthless. His face was covered with the mask I had become so accustomed to, the face I liked to think of as the Malfoy Mask. It was hard and cold; it was obvious that he had been trained to suppress his emotions. I felt a pang of pity for him, but it was quickly boiled away by the anger inside of me.

"I want you to tell me the truth!" I yelled. And just like that, the words were off the tip of my tongue and out into the open air. And as they evaporated into nothing, so did my anger. I felt a heavy feeling weigh down on my shoulders, and I took a deep breath. "I want you to tell me the truth," I said again, quietly. I looked up at his face, my brown eyes searching his grey ones for some sign. Something that told me he was truly on my side, that he was my friend.

"Sit down, Granger." He let out a large sigh, rubbing at his temples as if he had a major headache coming. Or maybe the headache was me. Either way, he was going to tell me the truth, and I wasn't going to let the opportunity pass me by. I sat down, looking at him expectantly as I folded my hands delicately in my lap.

He let out another large sigh. He seemed to be hesitating, and I could tell that his brain was working hard, trying to decipher what to say to me. What information could he tell without giving away too much?

"I want the whole truth," I decided to amend. His jaw clenched, as if my request was physically straining on him. But he nodded and ran a hand through his tousled blond hair.

"Okay," he said quietly. His ashen eyes met mine, and a thought that had never crossed my mind disrespectfully intruded: he had beautiful eyes. I forced the thought away as quickly as it had come, making myself listen carefully to what he had to say. "My father," he started quietly, "is… _different._ I mean, different than you and me, but not different from the rest of my family. They're what you call Pureblood Supremacists. They believe that any witch or wizard who isn't pureblood is filthy, and they believe that they should be wiped out." His eyes shifted away from mine, as if he were ashamed of the values his family held. Looking down at his hands, he continued. "My father was a Death Eater during the First Wizarding War. And when Voldemort came back, he was thrilled. Said that he could finally finish what he started. But…but he messed up." His voice was trembling now; I had never heard it tremble before. Draco was usually the epitome of coldness, his tone always balanced, his face never cracking or showing a hint of sensation. But now, I could see it beginning to crumble. The hard mask he had worked so hard to secure was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do about it. "He got himself into a lot of trouble, and I have to fix it. If I don't…he'll kill me. And my family." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. I stayed silent, waiting for him to say more. But after a long moment of silence, he was still refusing to go on.

Hesitantly, I reached over, letting my hand rest gently on his upper arm. It was warm to the touch, and I could feel the muscles underneath. My hand drifted down lower, to his forearm, where I was scared of what I would find beneath his sleeve. Reaching his wrist, I played with the hem of his shirt. I glanced up at his face once, but his eyes were still closed. He gave me no indication that he wanted me to stop. So I pushed his sleeve up, grabbing his hand and gently flipping his arm around.

Against his beautiful, pale, milky skin, a large black tattoo stood out. It was a mark I would recognize anywhere. The Dark Mark. Voldemort's mark. A tiny gasp escaped my lips, and I blew it out quickly in a hope to mask my disgust. I dropped his arm quickly. I couldn't seem to find any words.

"Y-You…" His eyes flashed open, and he looked over at me.

"I'm a Death Eater," he finished for me, ripping his arm away from me and pulling his sleeve back down roughly. "I didn't want this, but I have no choice. I can't let him kill my family, I can't." He stood up, and I could tell that he was having some kind of turmoil inside of him. He began to pace. Back and forth he went, the shadows of the fire casting dark spots across his face as he moved. It made his eyes look darker than normal, more malevolent.

Or maybe it was just my imagination.

I stood up, reaching over and grabbing his hand to make him stop pacing, if nothing else. It was giving me a headache.

"You don't have to do this," I murmured. I gave his hand a gentle tug, pulling him back towards the couch where he sat down beside me once more. "Draco, this is your choice." His first name, though I often used it in my head, rarely rolled off of my tongue. But this time, it felt right to use it. "I'm sure the Order would help you. They wouldn't let your parents die. They would..." I didn't know why I was saying this things. There was only one reason that I could think of.

I truly cared about Draco Malfoy, and I didn't want to see him on the wrong side.

I glanced down at his arm again. He caught me staring, and he reached over, putting his hand gently under my chin and tilting it up. Looking into his eyes, I felt some of my fear leave. This was Draco. He was my best friend. I knew him, I trusted him. And I believed that he was going to do the right thing. He leaned in a tiny bit closer, his hand still on my chin. I felt my stomach twist into knots. His breath was tickling my face; he smelled of peppermint and fresh parchment.

"They wouldn't be able to help me," he breathed. His words tickled my nose, wrapping around my face and disappearing behind me. "I'm too far gone."

His hand dropped from my chin and he pulled away. I could feel my heart hammering loudly against my chest, as if it were trying to beat its way out. I watched him closely as he stood up, and I stood up with him.

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. A couple of curls fell out from behind my ears, but I didn't bother pushing them back. "You're not too far gone. I refuse to believe that. You're here, aren't you? You're with me. I'm a muggleborn, Draco. Look at me. Compared to other witches, do I look any different to you?" He was so close to me; I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the smell…Merlin, he smelled amazing.

"Yes."

One word, and my heart seemed to drop right into my stomach. It was a question I had wanted an answer to, but that hadn't been the answer I had expected. Maybe I had been wrong about him all along. Maybe he _was_ too far gone. But my brain kept telling me that that wasn't right. Because I knew how to choose friends, and I knew that Draco was good, no matter what he said.

He took a step closer to me, and I felt myself suck in a breath, holding it. "You are different," he murmured. "But not because of your blood." He closed the tiny gap between us, and our bodies seemed to meld into each other, becoming one single entity rather than two. "You're different because you're more beautiful than any of the other witches at Hogwarts." His grey eyes were steady and even as he stared into mine. I felt a large flush work its way onto my cheeks, but I held his gaze. "The way you do things, the way you seem to know everything. You're bloody _brilliant_ , Granger. If I had had any blood prejudice at all, you would have completely blown it all away." His voice was soft; I could practically taste his breath, and I realized that I wanted more of that taste. My eyes flickered down to his lips, but he didn't seem to notice. "You are the most amazing witch I have ever met. I know that blood doesn't matter. But my family can't suffer because of me."

"But everybody will suffer if you help their side," I breathed. I could hardly focus; his scent was wrapping me up, inhibiting my brain from functioning properly. He was like a drug. A sweet, beautiful, wonderful drug, made especially for me. "People like _me_ will suffer."

A tiny sigh escaped his lips. No sound came out, but I felt the exhale of breath against my skin. He was so close, but yet, he wasn't close enough.

"I won't let anything happen to you. You have my promise on that."

And then he had pulled away, taking his intoxicating scent with him. It wasn't fair. None of it. He took a step back, throwing me his signature half smile. And then, without another word, he had opened the door and disappeared, his footsteps silent in the empty corridors of the castle.

I sat there for a long moment, trying to work everything out once again. Pieces of the puzzle had been added, but it still didn't seem to fit. Sooner or later, I would have to admit that I was never going to complete the puzzle of Draco Malfoy.

I knew that I didn't want him to be a Death Eater. I knew that I wanted him on our side, the _good_ side. And I knew that he wanted that too. But as much as I hated him for making the wrong choice, I couldn't help but admire him. He was willing to go against everything he believed in to help his family. His loyalty certainly was commendable.

It seemed like I had only been sitting there for a few short minutes, but when I looked at the clock, I realized that it had been hours. It was way past curfew, and I needed to get back to my dorm. I reached up, wiping at my cheeks.

I had been here for hours, and hadn't realized it. And there was another thing I had failed to notice.

I had been crying the entire time.

 **Author's Note: I'm incredibly sorry! I know that's it's been awhile since I've updated this story, but know that I haven't forgotten about it. Life has been pretty busy lately, and I've been trying to work on it as much as I can. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell your friends! The more people I have waiting for the next chapter, the more likely I'll get it up quickly! Thank you all for reading!**


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